An Inheritance Reborn
by Lhachel
Summary: A farmboy, a princess, a dragon... everything seems familiar, but is it? Will good really be triumphing over evil this time? Alternate Universe Darkfic.
1. Prologue: The Shade

**Eragon 3D**

by Lhachel and J.W. Cart

_Authors' Note: We, the authors, mean no disrespect to Christopher Paolini. We merely wanted to see what would happen if we put our own (slightly sinister) spin on the characters and events of Eragon. We hope you enjoy it- there'll be more coming!_

_All characters and most events come from the mind of Paolini. Anything you don't recognize is probably ours._

Arya held tightly onto the dragon's egg as she urged her horse into a gallop. Next to her rode the two surviving guards of the egg's resting place- they had barely made it out of the hidden grotto alive. The other guards had stayed behind to give them a chance to escape from the Shade, Durza. The spirit-possessed sorcerer had appeared out of nowhere, smashing their defenses. They'd barely been able to resist long enough for Arya to get out; his command of magic was far stronger than theirs.

They had done the only thing they could do, flee into the night with the egg and hope that they could reach safety before they were caught. The guard on her left let out a cry of warning, and she turned for a split second- it didn't take longer to see what frightened him.

Devouring ground behind them on a smoke-breathing horse was Durza. The Shade's flame-red hair easily identified him, even without his mount. It ran with unnatural speed, causing Arya to spur her own mare harder. They had to run. They had to get away from him.

He laughed behind them. She could hear it, loud and harsh. Taunting them, playing with them- Durza wasn't worried that they would escape.

They had to try. One of the guards slowed briefly to loose an arrow before catching up with them again. Arya didn't know if the arrow hit or not- she wasn't looking behind her anymore, only in front, looking, hoping, for a way to escape.

Escape... from this narrow... box... canyon. She glanced at her companions. They were trapped. Spinning their horses around, the two guards left her side to form a barrier between her and the oncoming Shade.

She steeled herself, knowing that they would give their lives for a chance for her to save the egg. She quickly started to call up words in the ancient language that would send the egg away, away from the canyon and away from Durza.

"What do you think you're doing, pretty elf?" Durza called out as he approached, his horse dancing in the moonlight, sending gouts of smoke into the air. Arya doubted that it was truly alive, at least not anymore, but she pushed that thought out of her mind and concentrated on finding the right words- words of hiding, words of travel. The Shade barked out his own words, just as she finished- words of death. The two guards fell just as a brilliant green light surrounded the egg, taking it away.

"You'll never find the egg now," she replied bravely, trying to hide the quaver in her voice as she looked into his snarling face.

Durza didn't say anything, at least not at first. She waited for him to kill her, staring at him defiantly. Then he hissed something, anger contorting his voice. Arya barely had time to register the word before her body heeded it and fell into darkness.


	2. Chapter One: Discovery

_**Chapter One: Discovery**_

**By Lhachel and J.W. Cart**

_And here we meet our protagonist. Your thoughts are highly appreciated- we read and consider every review! Let us know what you think. As usual, everything belongs to Christopher Paolini except our spin on this._

_Re-uploaded with a few edits- thank you, Fire Dancer!_

Eragon stalked the deer as the light faded and evening changed to night. He'd been following it for several days now, up into this meadow high in the Spine Mountains. He'd lamed the deer two days earlier, but it had managed to get away, leading him on a chase through the dark forests. He loved the challenge of a tricky kill- watching the spirit leave the animal's eyes was his favourite part of the hunt.

Kneeling down in the grass, Eragon drew his bow and nocked an arrow. His breathing slowed as he sighted along it- this was the most imporant part of the hunt, getting ready for the kill. A certain mindset was needed; the hunter needed to be calm and collected, his mind quiet. The prey could sense the predator sometimes. That's why he had to be perfectly still- otherwise the deer would know he was there. He carefully pulled the string back, about to release it when an explosion rocked the meadow. The arrow flew from the bow, completely missing the deer as it bounded out of the meadow.

Eragon snarled as he turned from his missed shot to see what had caused the explosion. An acrid whiff of smoke greeted him, coming from a hole burned into the ground. Through trails of greenish smoke, he could see something resting inside of it. Curiously, he waved the smoke away and knelt next to the hole- the thing was an egg, or a stone shaped like an egg, of a deep, vivid blue.

He prodded the stone with his bow, fascinated by its sudden appearance. It rocked back and forth, but otherwise seemed harmless, so he reached out to touch it. The surface was smooth and cool, feeling almost like water or fine cloth, against his fingers. Eragon picked it up, expecting it to be heavier than it was, and looked closer. The stone wasn't entirely blue, but covered in a web of white lines.

It wasn't a deer, but it would make a nice addition to his collection of curiosities that he had found in the Spine. Perhaps he'd show Roran, and gloat over having found something as valuable as this piece of rock had to be. Glancing up into the sky, he decided to find somewhere to make camp. Now that he'd lost the deer, he might as well return to Carvahall and his uncle.

Eragon crossed the meadow, holding the stone. There was a stream on the other side he could camp next to; he'd barely gotten to it when the stone rocked in his arms. He froze and held the stone at arm's lengths. It moved again, and he could hear something tapping from within it, trying to get out.

He cautiously put the stone down- it rocked and shook, cracks forming on the surface. The rising moon illuminated the area, giving Eragon a good view of what was happening. Several minutes passed as the stone bucked and trembled, its cracks growing larger and larger. Finally, one crack opened wide enough for something blue to show through- it was almost the same colour as the egg, which Eragon realized the stone obviously was, except that it wasn't marked with the same white lines. The thing wiggled and wobbled and broke off more of the shell, piece by piece, until a small lizard-like creature fell out of it.

Eragon watched as the blue lizard spread a pair of wings and bumbled around the broken egg shell as if looking for something. It keened a high-pitched wail that made Eragon wince.

"Shush!" he hissed, pressing his fingers to the tiny creature's mouth and forcing it closed. It blinked at him in surprise and tried to open its mouth to keen again. Eragon scowled at it and forced his will down on the lizard, like he did to the horses in his uncle's stable when they were restless. The lizard made a tiny, almost frightened sound and fixed its eyes on the boy.

For a moment, Eragon thought that it was going to bite him, but instead it started to glow. The light quickly covered his hand and he jerked it back, crying out in pain as his skin felt like it was being scorched. His mind felt like it was being forced open, letting him feel the lizard- and the animal was inside his thoughts, too, pushing and looking around. His lip curled and he shoved it out of his mind.

How dare it go in there?

It fled from his mind, but the connection between the two of them stayed; he could feel that it was hungry now, looking towards him for food. He flexed his right hand and looked at it, startled that the burning had stopped. On his palm was a strange silvery mark that made him almost remember something, a story or song from Brom, the crazy old storyteller. He tried to remember more, but it faded quickly from his mind as the lizard pressed more insistently for food. He pushed it to be quiet, and smirked in satisfaction as it listened.

Amused, he relented and pulled some dried meat from his pack and fed it to the lizard. It snatched up the food eagerly, eating all of what he offered. He didn't give the creature all it wanted- he needed food for himself as well, and he had no intention of going hungry.

Eragon spread out his bedroll and started a fire, keeping one eye on the lizard. The light of the flames played off its scales, flickering and bleaching out the colour. He smiled- he enjoyed watching the fire, and the lizard's interest was obvious. He wondered what would happen if it touched the flames but to his disappointment, it didn't even try. He ate some of the remaining meat and sat up a little longer, watching the stars.

With the fire banked so he'd have coals to cook over in the morning, he slid into his bedroll. The lizard curled up on his chest and he nudged it irritably, pushing it down until it was more comfortable for him. The long trek of the day caught up to him, and sleep came quickly.

When he dreamed, he dreamed of dragons.


	3. Chapter Two: Carvahall

_**Chapter Two: Carvahall**_

By Lhachel and J.W. Cart

_Welcome to Chapter Two! Please fasten your seatbelts and keep all hands inside the vehicle for an exciting ride with plenty of dialogue. As usual, the characters belong to Christopher Paolini and the words belong to us._

Sloan kept Carvahall's general store in almost obsessively neat order. The large man knew that ever piece of supply had its own place, from the bags of flour to the knives to the buttons for women's dresses. He prided himself on keeping such a well-stocked store- it provided everything that the townsfolk couldn't make or grow for themselves, and kept him and his only daughter, Katharine, fed.

It was Katharine that he was thinking about as he prepared to close up the store for the night when someone walked in, setting the little bell above the door ringing. "We're just about closed," he called, turning to see who it was as he put a smile on his face to greet them.

It was the Garrow's nephew, Eragon. He had an unkempt look about him, his blond hair tangled and his skin smudged with so much dirt it was several shades darker. It looked like he'd just been out in the woods for a week- which wouldn't have surprised Sloan. The boy was lazy, always skulking off into the woods and avoiding his duities. He wasn't like his cousin Roran, a good, hard-working young man. He watched Eragon approach the counter, his dark eyes intent on something, though it was hard to tell what in the gloom of the store.

"Good evening, Eragon, how can I help you?" Sloan asked politely, watching him closely. He always got the impression that the boy was nervous about something from the way he moved, always just about to jump, but tonight it was worse than usual. Frowning a little, he thought he saw something shift on Eragon's shoulder, near his pack. All that was pushed away when Eragon dumped broken shards of something on the countertop. They appeared to be the remains of a blue vase.

"I need supplies for the farm," the boy replied, handing over a grubby list.

Sloan gathered the items on the list, placing them on the counter. Eragon looked them over closely, and Sloan could have sworn he saw something squirm on the boy's shoulders as he said, "That will be seventeen crowns."

"I haven't got any money."

He stared at the boy. Did he expect him to give away the supplies for free? "Then I can't give you the supplies."

Eragon pointed at the pottery shards. "Wait, what about these?"

Sloan dubiously picked one up and examined it- it wasn't, to his surprise, pottery, but instead some sort of stone, polished smooth. They were pretty and unusual, but unless they had a jeweler come through Carvahall who could use them, he wouldn't be able to sell them to anyone. "No, I'm sorry, but I can't possibly do anything with these."

"But I need the supplies! My uncle sent me out for them!" Eragon said, a hint of an edge to his voice. He couldn't tell if it was desperation or something else.

"Eragon," Sloan said soothingly, "If you need supplies, then you'll have to give me money, or something in trade."

Eragon gestured to the shards. "I did offer you something in trade!" he protested. "They're magic! Surely that makes them valuable."

"But I can't sell them."

For a moment, Sloan thought that Eragon was going to scream at him, but the door to the shop opened again. Relieved at the interruption, the shopkeeper looked up to see the blacksmith, Hurst, walk in, followed by Katharine.

"Good evening, Sloan, Eragon."

Eragon turned and nodded towards the soot-covered man. "Evening, Hurst."

"What's going on?" The smith asked, coming up to the counter. Katharine smiled at her father and the boy and stepped into the back of the store.

"I'm trying to buy supplies, but Sloan won't let me," Eragon said, controlling a grumble.

Hurst raised an eyebrow at Sloan, who gave a shrug. "You have no money, Eragon. I won't take these shards in trade."

He picked up one of the shards and looked it over thoughtfully. "How about I buy some of these, off of you so you can use the money for supplies, Eragon?"

Eragon ducked his head a little, obviously thinking about this solution. He finally nodded and Hurst pulled out his money pouch to count out a few coins. He tucked a few of the larger shards of stone into another pouch on his belt and nodded as Eragon handed the money to Sloan.

Thoughtfully, Sloan put the money away. He'd have to talk to Garrow about this- the farmer wasn't well off, but he could certainly afford those supplies. Why hadn't he given Eragon any money? It was a question for another time, he supposed. He packaged the goods and was about to help Eragon put them in his pack when a... creature, a blue, winged lizard stuck its head out.

Sloan and Hurst both took a quick step back. The blacksmith reached for his beltknife, staring at the lizard in alarm. "What in the- what IS that?"

Eragon glared at them defiantly, stroking the head of the animal. "I don't know, but its mine. Don't you dare hurt it."

"Where did you find it?" Sloan asked, eyes still fixed on the lizard.

"In the Spine. I was hunting."

"Things found in the Spine are better left in the Spine," Sloan growled. "You're asking for trouble, taking an animal out of there. What if its mother follows you home? Something like that could be dangerous."

"Well, I didn't see a mother," muttered Eragon, backing up. "I just found the egg and it hatched."

Sloan started to respond angrily, but Hurst intervened. "Eragon, even if it has no mother, you don't know what it is or how to take care of it. It'd survive better if you left it alone. Wild things aren't meant to be kept by humans."

"I don't care! It's mine and I'm going to keep it." Eragon shoved the supplies into his pack carelessly and stormed out, leaving the two men staring at each other.

"He'll just bring trouble, Hurst. That boy's too reckless," Sloan sighed. "The Spine's a dangerous place, and taking something strange out of it is just going to bring the danger home."

"Sloan, I know that since-" Hurst cut himself off. "Eragon's been going into the Spine for years. He knows its dangers as well as we do. He's a bit wild, but it'll sort itself out in time- and if he found that creature like he says, it shouldn't be a threat to him or the town. Let it go."

Sloan growled something under his breath and shook his head. "Store's closed. Whatever you're here for'll have to wait until morning. Good night, Hurst."

Hurst nodded and squeezed his friend's shoulder. "Good night, Sloan. I'll be back tomorrow."

The big man left, closing the door behind him, and Sloan pushed the bolt home, trying not to dwell on the painful memories that a mention of the Spine always brought up. He shook his head to get them out and headed to the back, where Katharine was preparing dinner for the two of them. At least the mountains had left him his daughter.


	4. Chapter Three: Returning Home

_**Chapter Three- Returning Home**_

By Lhachel and J.W. Cart

_My god, chapter three is finally here. Who's a lazy procrastinating thing? Lhachel is! However, creative surges at stupid o'clock in the morning are good for something, so here's your chapter. As always, your comments and criticisms are welcomed._

Garrow banked the fire in the hearth. The night was getting old and he should have been in bed a long time ago, but he waited up in hope that his nephew would return home. The boy had been gone for almost a week now, off in the Spine. Garrow never knew what Eragon did in the mountains, but every so often he'd just up and vanish. Sometimes the farmer wondered if Eragon had gone off to try and find his mother or father, but the boy always returned eventually.

He stood and crossed the main room of the farmhouse, preparing to give up his watch for the night and go to bed when he heard the gate creak outside- he'd been at Roran to grease the hinges, but he hadn't yet. someone was coming, most likely his wayward nephew.

He paused at the foot of the stairs, relieved that Eragon had returned safely. The door opened and the boy came in, grinning with triumph and excitement.

"Hello, uncle," Eragon said as he swung his loaded pack onto the worn table they used. "I got the supplies you wanted.

"Supplies?" Garrow asked, confused. How had Eragon known what they needed? Of course, the list that he'd been making for the next time he went into the village had gone missing. Eragon must have taken it. "How did you pay for them?" He was a little worried that the boy might have stolen them. Eragon meant well, but he didn't always understand certain things, and paying for things was one of them.

Eragon's grin hadn't faded. "I traded for them. Hurst gave me money for the egg shard that I had."

"Egg shards?" Garrow wasn't sure what sort of egg shards Hurst would pay money for- the smith wasn't foolish by any stretch of the imagination.

"Yes. From this." Eragon removed a small lizard-like creature that had been clinging to his hair. He set it on the table, where it looked around curiously, the candlelight reflecting off of its deep blue scales.

Garrow gasped in shock- it was hard to mistake the animal for anything else, even if you'd only heard the tales. But it couldn't possibly be something different- it had to be- "Eragon! That's a dragon!"

The boy glanced between him and the dragon, which peered sleepily at the both of them before making an unhappy squeak. "Is it really?" Eragon's smile grew even wider, his eyes shining with excitement. "A real dragon, like in the stories?"

Garrow nodded, remembering how much Eragon enjoyed hearing stories about the dragon riders from Brom. When he was a child, he would sit, listening intently, to every story, and then play at being a dragon rider in the woods, making Roran play as the evil king, or a wicked dragon rider, or an urgal. "Yes. Like the stories."

Eragon bent down to look more closely at the little dragon, stroking its back lightly. "I'm going to be a rider," he murmured in wonder. "A real dragon rider. Just like in the stories."

His uncle frowned as the dragon let out another squeak. "Only if you take care of your dragon. When did you feed him last?"

Eragon blinked, looking back up at Garrow. "I don't remember. This morning?"

"Go get some meat from the larder and feed him. You have to feed babies, or else they don't grow," the farmer said, watching Eragon. "Go on, get it."

Eragon leapt up and ran to the larder, returning with a bowl of meat and scraps for the dragon. Garrow nodded approvingly as his nephew fed the dragon, making sure that the little animal got all the food it wanted. As Eragon put the empty bowl down, wiping his fingers on his tunic, Garrow ruffled his hair. "You'd best get some sleep. We start bringing in the rye in the morning."

Eragon nodded and scooped up the dragon, giving his uncle a smile. "Good night, Uncle."

"Good night, Eragon." Garrow started to go back up the stairs, but then turned again. "Don't tell anyone but Roran about your dragon, you hear? It could get us all killed."

Eragon nodded, closing the door to the room he shared with Roran. Garrow continued on up the stairs, frowning to himself. Anyone who listened to Brom's tales, even those who just dismissed them as the ravings of a drunken lunatic, knew what the king had done to all the other dragon riders. If word got out that a dragon was here, things would get very bad, not only for Eragon, but for the whole village.

Garrow truly hoped it wouldn't come to that.


	5. Chapter Four: No Balm In Gil'ead

_**Chapter Four- No Balm In Gil'ead**_

**By Lhachel and J.W. Cart**

_This chapter contains some pretty graphic torture, or at least descriptions thereof by unpleasant people. Also references rape. You may want to skip it if any of that makes you uncomfortable, because we would hate for you to be uncomfortable. J.W. doesn't like writing it so practically all of this is Lhachel's fault. Sorry, Arya! As usual, everything that doesn't belong to us belongs to the Pao. Comments and criticism are always welcome, of course._

Durza looked at the chained elf, a smile ghosting across his lips as the voices whispered in pleasure. At one time, she could have been beautiful, lovely even, but now, with a week's worth of grime and sweat and blood on her, with the long cuts from the lashes and the bruises from the beatings, it would be impossible to tell she was one of the fair folk, except for her ears. He tilted his head a little, lips pursing thoughtfully. Perhaps they shuld trim those ears, make her all but mortal.

The room smelled of excrement, and the mold that grew in the dim light. Arya hung in chains from the wall below the only lamp, too weak to even stand, her body covered in the roughest garment they'd found.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Durza asked as the spirits echoed and hissed in his mind, wanting blood, wanting to see the elf-woman scream. He pushed them away- he needed information from her. Then... then he would indulge the voices.

Arya raised her head a little, looking at him with pain-soaked green eyes that still held a bit of the defiance that had brought her so low. Her lip curled and contempt flared in her face as she tried to spit at him, but all she managed was to dribble down her chin. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly, pulling the hem of her shift up to wipe the spittle from her skin.

"Now, that isn't polite. I'm trying to have a conversation, and you can't even manage a reply." He picked up a pitcher and poured water into a crystal goblet, directly in front of her eyes. He could see how her eyes watched the water, thirsty and desperate. He could almost touch her desire for the water, pick it up in his hands and taunt her with it. He couldn't remember when they'd fed her last. Two or three days ago, perhaps? She must be hungry. Even elves had to eat sometime.

He sipped the water delicately, watching the tip of her tongue snaking out to lick cracked lips. "Would you like some?"

She said nothing, her eyes never moving from the goblet.

"Come on now, it's only water," he crooned, lifting it to her lips and tilting it so it splashed against her closed mouth. "It won't hurt you, Arya."

She didn't take it, letting her head drop away and spilling the water on the ground. Durza heard one of the voices in the splash, whispering to him about elves and meat. They didn't eat it for fear of becoming like the animal, stupid and hunted and afraid. He smiled again. He'd tell the guards that that should be her only food.

He stroked her face gently, smiling as she twitched away from his hand. "Just answer my questions and you'll be free. Where is the egg?"

"I won't tell you," she rasped, the only words she'd said during her imprisonment. He grabbed her hair and yanked viciously, one of the voices gibbering in glee as she gasped in pain. It wrested control for a moment, twisting and pulling her hair until she cried out hoarsely. Durza forced it back, pushing it deeper into his mind and snarling at his lack of control.

"Where are the Varden?"

Her lip curled and she spat again, this time managing to get a glob onto his pants. He slapped her and watched her head snap back and hit the wall, getting another hiss of pain.

"Be nice, I said," he murmured, cupping her chin. "We won't get anywhere if you keep behaving like an animal."

Durza frowned as Arya's eyes closed. He wrapped his fingers around her neck, shaking off the voices that murmured to squeeze and snap and suffocate. "Simply tell me, and this will be over. You can go home, see the the sun and the stars and the trees again. Isn't that what you elves like, Princess Arya?"

She glowered at him, and he smiled serenely, digging his nails in, watching flowers of blood blossom from where they pressed. "Or you can stay here, in this dirty, disgusting room, your only company the guards- they do enjoy having you, you know."

His hand wandered over her body and he laughed at the quivers of disgust he could feel. "Do you really want another night of that? Their grunts and moans and seed, staining your pure elvish body? Just tell us what we need to know and you'll be set free."

She shook her head, glaring up at him through greasy strands of hair. "The egg is beyond your reach and mine. The Varden would have moved as soon as my capture was heard of. There is nothing I can tell you, Shade."

It was more than he'd heard from her in a while and he laughed. "We'll get it from you soon, elf. Don't worry."

The voices wanted to kill her, see her finally bleed, but he couldn't let them. She was lying, there had to be some kernel of information, however small, that could be gleaned from her. He scraped his fingers down her face and the blood trickled over the scabs from the last scratches. "It can only get worse if you don't give in. We have things you've never even had nightmares about."

He shuddered in pleasure. "I think you need to know what we will really do to break you." He turned away from her, going to the ever-present guard outside the door. A quiet word had a flogger brought, a wicked thing with steel barbs on the end. Durza caressed the handle, and came back over to Arya, feeling an even wider smile growing on his lips.

"Do you know what this will do to you? These barbs will tear out pieces of your flesh with each stroke- just little ones, but it will still hurt. Sometimes they poison them. I really don't know if they've done it this time." He laughed and stroked the lashes. "Are you ready to talk? Because after this, Princess, there is no going back."

The elf just shook her head. "I can't tell you anything."

"As you wish," Durza smiled, and tore off the shift that covered her, exposing the bruised and scabbed flesh of her stomach. He raised his arm, and in one blow had the elf-bitch screaming.


End file.
